


Escape

by eratothemuse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, jail break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 11:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eratothemuse/pseuds/eratothemuse
Summary: You can't just sit by and let Peter rot in Eichen House, regardless of how your actions will affect the pack.





	Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Imagines: Imagine organizing an escape from Eichen House to save Peter. & Imagine the pack finds out about your relationship with Peter.  
> This was a request for anon.  
> \- Meg <3 xx

“That’s (Y/N),” Lydia gasps in shock as the security camera catches a brief glimpse of a face under the hoodie, unmistakable features keeping her from the denial she so desperately wanted to embrace. “(Y/N) let Peter out.” Within seconds, the small security room is in chaos, Derek taking quick strides to grab angrily at Stiles.

“(Y/N)’s always with you! You’ve known her for years! How did you not know Peter had slipped under her skin!” Derek accuses, really just needing someone to blame for the unforeseen betrayal as he pushes Stiles against the wall, the only one of the pack’s members who had been closest to (Y/N).

“I had no idea that (Y/N) and Peter were together!” Stiles snaps back at Derek, pushing his hands away angrily. “I’m not her keeper, just her friend!” Stiles looks down, hurt filling his eyes as he breathes, “Or, at least, I thought I was.”

“Hey, hey!” Scott pushes Derek away from Stiles, situating himself between the two as he continues, “None of us knew!”

“And now it’s too late,” Derek growls, looking back at the security tape just in time to watch the unmistakable back end of (Y/N)’s car screech out of the driveway,  _12:34:22AM_  blaring like a beacon on the corner of the screen, letting them all know the two had had plenty a head-start within the last seven hours. “They’re gone.”

**——— |  7 Hours Earlier  | ———**

It would have to be a one-woman job, but hell hath no fury, you supposed. You’d never felt this disconnected from the pack— from your friends— in all the time you’d known them, and it hurt you. A deep ache in your chest that was almost as big as the one they’d made when they’d left Peter to rot in Eichen House.

Almost.

That’s what this was all about. That’s what everything had come to be about, you realized, ever since the first moment you’d gotten involved with him. Maybe he had designed it that way. You guessed you’d never know what was real with him, but at this moment— these seconds that you took a deep breath, preparing to jump this small section of the hospital’s fence that you’d discovered was low enough for your infiltration— you knew your feelings for him were real. And you knew just how far you’d go to save him from the fate that had already been decided.

Thoughts are clouding your head as you go for it at a running start, not bothering to avoid the camera that was perched nearby. You’d timed this perfectly, having come to figure out the pattern of the shift changes of Eichen House. Right now, the security guards were changing.

But the worry of getting caught was the last thing on your mind as your feet find purchase on grass, having made it to the inside of the wall. Your movements are almost reflexive as adrenaline runs through you, darkness veiling the uninvited visitor that scurried around the hospital.

There’s that feeling in the pit of your stomach. A nausea at the knowledge that what you had to do was going to be seen as a betrayal by your friends. The knowledge that you couldn’t see them again, at least for quite a while. At least, not until you got Peter somewhere far away from Beacon Hills and Eichen House.

That is, if they ever found it in their hearts to forgive you.

But what probably hurt the most right now was the fact that Stiles would think the worst about you. Your best friend for years’ memory of you tainted by your own hands.

Any part of you that wanted to turn back around, wanted to leave Peter where he was in the depths of Eichen House’s darkest cell, was squished as you found yourself inside a supply closet, time lost to you of how you’d gotten there. You take another breath, pulling the hood of your jacket down to adjust your white scrubs.

They would be taking patients to showers now. Well, the more  _nocturnal_  ones, that is. Really, that orderly you’d chatted up last week had been  _very_  helpful when you’d showed interest in his work, practically ready to tell you the floor plan of the hospital if you’d needed to ask.

Scooping the sedatives you needed off the shelf, you prep them to be used immediately as you turn back towards the supply closet’s door, waiting a moment as a shadow passes over it. Once the sign the workers were substantially down the hallway, you reach for the doorknob. Peeking your head out, you straighten yourself, and prepare to act like you belong there. Walking out into the hallway, you make your way to the showers, hearing the voices of the orderlies as they ushered another patient to get cleaned.

You pause in the doorway, breath catching as you see Peter idly standing there, one orderly tugging off his shirt as the other stands guard. Their backs are turned to you, focused more on the dangerous threat that was Peter Hale rather than someone who, in peripheral vision, looked like another orderly. But Peter doesn’t look all too threatening right now, with the way his eyes stare through the wall, unfocused as he’s lost in whatever subduing drug they’d no doubt given him.

Syringes at the ready, you move forward, stabbing them into the orderlies as quickly as you could and catching them off guard. The one who had been standing guard turns to you with a gasp and makes to push you violently away, but before he can do much else, he’s taking a knee to make his inevitable fall less damaging.

You catch yourself on a bench as you watch the orderlies fall, quickly moving towards Peter who stands just as still as before, shirt dangling off one arm as he doesn’t seem to notice you, “Peter.” You give him a little shake before pulling the white scrubs you’d brought for him out of your bag, “Here, Peter, put this on. We’ve got to go!” He doesn’t respond, at least, not until you grip his jaw, thick stubble scratching the pads of your fingers, to force his head to face you, “Peter! We need to leave, love.”

His blue eyes come into focus, brow furrowing as he looks at you in confusion as if he doesn’t recognize you at first, the medication running through his system muddling his thoughts. You watch as he slowly opens his mouth, feeling his fingers come to wrap over your own cupping his face as he leans into your touch.

“You’re not real,” his voice is a hoarse whisper that makes your heart clench in pain. Leaning forward, you stand taller to place a gentle kiss to his chapped lips.

“I’m real.”

The recognition slowly comes back as he takes a shaky breath, “(Y/N)? What—? What are you doing here?”

Taking his hand in your own, you hand him the scrubs to change into, “I’m here to help you escape. Now change into these, and lets get out of here before they realize they’re missing two orderlies and a patient.”

He looks down to the ground, noticing the passed-out orderlies for the first time, a glimmer of himself returning as a soft smirk comes to his lips, “I taught you well, sweetheart.”


End file.
